19-Aug-2006 -- We spent several weeks in preparation for this visit. We knew it involved a long trip, some physical effort and a lot of planning. Many people answered the call with enthusiasm and curiosity. Visiting the confluence meant something unknown, something different from the normal activities of a motorcycle club.

Finally, the expected day arrived. We almost did not sleep the night before. Angel Talayero, Elias Gonzalez, Fabio Corbellini, Jose Manuel Guillemot, Ricardo Sandoval, Ricardo Vargas and I, Fernando Garcia, left Mexico City riding our motorbikes on August 18th, 2006 before 7 am. We wanted to avoid the traffic jumps produced by political riots from those in opposition to the election results.

We rode in direction to Puebla and then to Tehuacan, where we left the highway pointing to the small village of Zapotitlan Salinas. There is the botanic garden “Dr Helia Bravo Hollis” holding one of the most important reserves of cactus in the country. We learned its history and about a great number of specimens, particularly we were amazed by a gigantic cactus known as Elephant Foot that was more than 900 years old.

We continued on the route to Huajapan de Leon and then to Oaxaca, the capital of the state of the same name. Entering the city, we met Ruben Tenorio from the BMW-Oaxaca Motoclub, who guided the group into the city. Oaxaca had also been taken by a political movement headed by teachers almost 100 days before. Avoiding street blockings we got to the hotel, a beautiful colonial house that curiously was home of the Italian teacher Cassiano Conzatti, also a naturist and botanic during the past century.

At the hotel we met by chance a group of Spaniard drivers traveling around the world with four BMW motorcycles of the brand new model R 1200 GS Adventure. At night, we had a meeting to discuss some cartographic issues and to agree on the logistics for the final attack to conquer the confluence. Right after that we went for dinner in a nice party with our friends Fernando Benitez and Emilio Velazquez.

Early on Saturday we had breakfast, we set all the motorcycles and the support SUVs. At 9 am seventeen people left the hotel toward the confluence. Guided by our Oaxaca friends, to whom Ricardo Ruiz joined, we drove 44 kilometers through many unpaved roads, crossing villages, rivers, valleys and mountains, all of a spectacular beauty, just to arrive to a spot close to the confluence, the house of Mr Vicente Lopez.

I recognized the place immediately. It was exactly what I supposed when looking to the images in Google Earth. We parked the bikes and went to the owner of that wooden house, who together with three children, listened trying to understand us. He gave us permission to go down the mountain. While he was talking to us, a friend arrived riding a horse and both suggested a path to go to the place they thought we wanted to go.

We met altogether to agree on the responsibilities of the journey and the environment. We checked that our datum was WGS84 and computed a route to the confluence. We started walking on a great circle using some vanished walkways until we left them following our GPSs. On the way we found very deep hills that in some cases we couldn’t overcome. We changed directions many times looking for easier ways to move forward.

At half of the journey we realized that Hilda Garcia and Fabio Corbellini got apart of the group being at the other side of a deep canyon impossible to cross. We yield through the dense trees but there was no way to approximate to each other. At the end, this was a lucky separation since it allowed them to take pictures of the group from the distance, showing the insignificance of those people inside the immensity of the woods.

Sometimes, we had to crawl and slip down the hill. We also had to use ropes to go down with less risk. Those 350 meters in straight line from the bikes became 1,700 meters. We walked for two and a half hours when the instruments got into the acceptable 100-meter tolerance. We had descended only 129 meters, but we where as tired as if we had reached the center of the Earth.

Walking back and forth we were getting closer to the proper confluence, but the closed trees barely let pass a weak signal from the satellites. With the GPS’ readings very close to full ceros we decided the location of the confluence… and celebrated. I was in shock! The hill at the place was more than 45 degrees and we had to sit down since it was impossible to stay up.

The confluence, as we expected, had nothing in particular and at the same time it was the most particular spot on the Earth, the very unique point holding the 17N 97W coordinates, exactly. It was covered by a thick layer of leaves fallen where probably nobody had ever stepped on. We were surrounded by a forest of pines and larch trees. We took the mandatory pictures and soon those for fun, embracing and waving our flag.

We were at 2,377 meters above mean sea level, and the temperature was 75 degrees Fahrenheit while the GPS was oscillating a bit around the point without stabilization. Only four satellites gave some signal bringing an estimated position error EPE of 9 meters and a dilution of precision DOP of 2.3. We got satisfied with one thousandth of a minute (less than 2 meters) and pictured it at 1:52pm on August 19th, 2006.

We wanted to leave our mark there and we put a metal flag with the coordinates of our confluence engraved in one side and the web pages of the Munchen Motorrad Club of Mexico, the BMW-Oaxaca Club and the Degree Confluence Project on the other side. Then, I embraced my wife Mirian, the only woman who gets to the confluence and we breathed. The visit was accomplished!

Now we had to go back and the walk was up hill, but we had already learnt and we decided for the straight direction. Even though it was very tiring, we got to the bikes in less than an hour. We join back with Mrs Hilda Islas, Cristina Okamoto and her kids Rodrigo and Alexandre, to whom we appreciate their support. We dressed our biker’s equipment and said goodbye to Mr Vicente, while we left an aerial photograph of his house and his fields as a gift.

I was the last to leave when Mr Vicente asked "and now, when will you return?". "Next year", I answered sure to honor my promise. We left that man sitting in a wooden bench, looking at the picture of his house that those weird men wearing Gor-Tex and Cordura armors that came one afternoon riding iron horses to see who-knows-what down there.